A Haunting
by Willow-Bane
Summary: After Pitch invites Jack to move in with him—as well as his newfound cat—strange things start happening in the lair. As it turns out, Pitch isn't the only one who causes bumps in the night.


Disclaimer – I do not own _Rise of the Guardians_

*Rated T for Teen (Unless Otherwise Noted)

* * *

**Summary: **After Pitch invites Jack to move in with him—as well as his newfound cat—strange things start happening in the lair. As it turns out, Pitch isn't the only one who causes bumps in the night.

* * *

**A Haunting**

"I can't believe we're really doing this," whispered Jack as he looked up at Pitch with a vibrant smile on his face.

"I think that it's about time you moved in with me," commented Pitch softly, wrapping an arm around the winter spirit's shoulders. He stared down at his lair. Though ominous and somewhat oppressing, it was home. And it was going to be _their _home from now on. "I love you."

"I love you, too," Jack stated excitedly, hugging his cat to his chest. "And I'm glad you let me bring this little guy along."

"I may be more of a night_mare_ person," Pitch remarked with a grin, "but I don't mind having a cat around. If anything, it'll be entertaining when the Nightmares see him. They're terrified of cats for some reason."

Jack laughed at that. How could anyone be terrified of cats? Especially the Nightmares; they were the embodiment of fear themselves. But his cat—Nightshade, he'd named him—was small in terms of the size of normal cats, but he was a fireball of energy. And he got into _everything_. Nightshade would have an absolute blast exploring the lair.

"Let's get you settled in, shall we?"

Jack smiled again, letting Pitch lead him into his new home. He couldn't wait for their new life to begin.

* * *

It was late evening by the time Jack had finished placing his small amount of possessions in Pitch's room. No, it was _their_ room now. He'd have to remember that.

The door to the bedroom was closed and Nightshade was running loose; he figured he should let his cat get used to the place one room at a time. While Nightshade explored, Pitch took a shower in the adjacent bathroom. That's why Jack was quite surprised to hear footsteps outside the bedroom door.

Jack shooed his cat away from the door so he could peek out into the hall. No one was there. That was strange. Closing the door, he went back into the room.

However, Jack's head shot up when he heard a knock on the door. Slowly approaching the bedroom door once more, he opened it and peered out into the hall. But, like last time, there was no one there. He shut the door and just stared at it. This was so strange. No one should have been here. Pitch had said all of the Nightmares normally left around five to start giving children nightmares. It was already seven.

Shrugging it off as his imagination, he went back toward the bed and promptly jumped out of his skin when he heard a bang. His head shooting in the direction of the bathroom, Jack figured Pitch had just dropped something.

But then he caught some movement out of the corner of his eye. When he turned to look, he found Nightshade sitting down on the floor and staring at the door. His tail swished every so often. And it honestly looked like the cat was listening to something.

Jack approached the door and crouched so he was at Nightshade's level. And that's when he heard it.

Scratching.

And then something touched his shoulder.

"Ah!" Jack screamed, jumping up and ready to fight his attacker with his staff; a stream of ice bounced around the room. But it was only Pitch. "You scared me!"

"Even though that's normally my job, I didn't mean to. What are you doing?" asked Pitch, rubbing his hair dry with a towel.

"I heard a scratching sound on the door," replied the winter spirit.

"It's probably just the cat."

Jack shook his head. "Nightshade's right here."

Frowning, Pitch looked down at the cat and found him staring at the door. Kneeling next to Nightshade, he began listening, and he heard a scratching sound. Opening the bedroom door, he walked out of the room and put his ear to the wall.

He heard nothing.

Coming back into the room, he shut the door, and the scratching began again.

"Maybe we have rats," stated Pitch absently. He then approached the wall and banged on it. The scratching immediately stopped. Perhaps he'd scared off whatever had been making the noise. "I'm sure it's nothing."

"But…never mind," said Jack, brushing the whole thing off. Perhaps he was just hearing the sounds of the lair. It _was_ a new environment after all. He just had to get used to it. That was it.

* * *

Pitch smiled when he got up that morning. He enjoyed being able to see Jack sleeping next to him. And knowing that the winter spirit probably wouldn't be up for a while, Pitch rose from the bed, got dressed, and headed out of the room as quietly as he could with the idea of making breakfast for his lover running through his mind.

Heading downstairs and into the newly created kitchen he'd built before Jack's arrival, Pitch stifled a groan when he noticed one of the chairs had been left out. "Jack," he grumbled. Didn't he know how to push in a chair?

Sliding the chair into its proper place, Pitch looked up and his stern expression faltered. All of the cabinet doors were open. It looked as if someone had just decided to open everything. Even the door to the oven was open.

Turning on his heel, Pitch marched back down the hall into the room he'd reserved for the Nightmares. "Why did you open the cabinets?"

The Nightmares' eyes widened. They shook their heads madly in protest of being accused of such a thing.

Pitch grumbled to himself. "All right. I apologize for snapping at you. Maybe a draft did it." He left the Nightmares then and went back to the kitchen. Pitch began shutting the cabinets and he closed the oven. He began to wonder if, perhaps, the shadows were objecting to him having brought the winter spirit to his home. If that was the case, then he'd just have to show them who was boss.

* * *

Later that night, Jack lay curled up against Pitch, his head resting on the Nightmare King's chest as he listened to his heartbeat.

"You didn't have to get that crazy with the shadows," Jack said, rubbing his hand on his lover's stomach.

"Yes, I did," Pitch replied sharply. "If they don't respect you, they don't respect me _or_ our home. If they don't like the fact that I've brought you here, then they have to deal with me."

"Don't you think that's a little harsh? I mean, won't they turn on you or something for being so…domineering?"

"I'm supposed to terrorize them. I control them."

"Okay," Jack stated softly, making himself a little more comfortable. But he had to turn his head when he noticed the bathroom light flickering. Both he and Pitch watched the light flicker until it promptly went out.

"Stupid lights. I didn't have to worry about these things until you started living here," grumbled Pitch as he slid off the bed. Jack chuckled and followed him into the bathroom, where Pitch flicked the light switch off and on. The light bulb seemed to have gone out.

Climbing onto the counter, Pitch grabbed a towel and unscrewed the light bulb. He stared at it for a moment. It didn't look like it had burned out. Maybe it had only been loose. Screwing the light bulb back in, he told Jack to flip the switch.

Light flooded the bathroom. There was no flickering. However, as soon as Pitch reached the bathroom door, the light flickered and went out.

"I'll change it in the morning," said Pitch, flipping the light switch off. "Let's just go to bed."

"Okay," replied Jack. "I'm glad you did all this for me, though. I appreciate it. I know it was a lot to ask to make all of these additions."

"Hm," was the only reply he received.

Once they returned to the bed and were under the covers, they cuddled up next to each other, fully prepared to go to sleep.

_Click._

Light flooded the bedroom. Sitting up in the bed, they realized it was coming from the bathroom.

"I thought you turned it off," said Jack.

"I did," insisted Pitch as he got out of the bed again. He headed for the bathroom and discovered that the light switch had been turned on. But he'd turned it off!

Flipping the light switch again, he went back to bed. And a few minutes later, he and Jack heard the light turning on again.

"What in the world is going on?" Pitch snapped, throwing the blankets off and storming out of the bed. He went up to the light switch and turned it off once more. "Let's see it turn on after this." Jack hovered in the doorway, watching as Pitch got up onto the counter again and reached for the light bulb.

"Ack!" the Nightmare King hissed, making Jack jump.

"Are you okay, Pitch?" the winter spirit asked in concern. "Pitch?"

"I'm fine. I just burned my hand on the bulb. Hand me that towel, will you?"

Jack did as he was asked and began watching his lover deal with the light bulb again. Pitch removed the bulb and tossed it into the trash. Then he stepped off the counter and inspected the light switch, making sure it was turned off. When things were to his satisfaction, he placed his arm around Jack and led him back to the bed.

"Let's get some sleep," whispered Pitch, letting Jack curl up against him. And as Pitch drifted off, Jack lay wide awake, wondering just what was going on with his new home.

* * *

Jack grinned. He couldn't wait to dig into his lunch. Setting down his plate and soda—which Tooth would have fainted over because she'd think he'd damage his teeth beyond repair—he then reached for his drink but frowned when his hand didn't make contact with it. Glancing around the kitchen, he spotted his soda on the floor. How had it gotten there?

He got up from his chair and retrieved the can and set it back down next to his plate. Sitting back down, he kept his eyes glued to his lunch and reached for his staff.

He couldn't find it.

Leaping out of his chair, he stared at the spot it should have been, but it just wasn't there.

"Mrow."

Jack's head shot up in the direction of the bedroom door. Nightshade stood in the doorway, the winter spirit's staff on the floor in front of him. Swallowing hard, he approached the cat. And when he was close enough to grab his staff, he snatched it up.

Then he just stood there, staring at Nightshade, who was staring at him. It was really kind of creepy. But eventually, the cat left, so Jack turned around to get back to his lunch.

He froze.

It took all the courage he had to walk up to where he'd placed his meal. With a shaking hand, he poked his soda can; it fell to the floor, opened and empty. And the food that had been on his plate was gone.

The staff fell from his hands as he stood there shaking. What was he supposed to do now? Should he tell Pitch? Would he even believe him?

Not knowing what to do, he sank down onto the floor and closed his eyes, rocking himself back and forth. He didn't want to admit he was scared, but he was. He _really _was!

* * *

Pitch pinched the bridge of his nose and shut his eyes. Children were becoming harder to scare every day. Since when had they become so desensitized?

Leaning back in his chair, his gaze shifted as his eyes then panned his lair. It was nice being at home now since Jack was living with him. That meant he could spend more time with his lover.

Smiling at that, his gaze once again shifted, but his head shot up when he noticed something out of the corner of his eye. His head snapping to the right, he stared at the corner of the far side of the room. He could have sworn something was over there.

Maybe it was just his imagination. Or maybe it was just the cat.

A few minutes later, however, he saw something move out of the corner of his eye again. Believing that Jack was trying to play tricks on him, his head snapped up again, fully prepared to start scolding.

But he froze and he felt his blood run cold.

Standing in the corner of the room, stood a shadowy figure, boding evil and threatening. It didn't move, but Pitch could _feel_ the malice emanating from it. He stood and stared it down. He couldn't help but notice how much that figure reminded him of, well, himself.

Pitch finally blinked. And when he opened his eyes again, the figure was gone. Had it only been his imagination? He really hoped so.

* * *

When Pitch got to their bedroom that night, he found Jack staring at Nightshade. And neither of them was moving.

"What are you doing?" Pitch asked.

Without turning, Jack answered, "He won't go onto that part of the floor." Jack indicated the space in front of the bed.

"I'm not sure I understand what you mean," replied the Nightmare King honestly.

"Watch," said Jack as he picked up Nightshade. He set the cat down on the floor in front of their bed. But as soon as the cat's feet touched the floor, he jumped back onto the bed and began hissing. He then crouched on the bed and stared at the floor as if he were watching something they couldn't see.

Frowning, Pitch knelt down and stared at the floor, too. When he heard Nightshade yowl at the floor, he had a feeling that the cat knew something they didn't.

"I don't know why he won't go there," stated Jack as he shrugged his shoulders.

"When did he start acting like this?" inquired Pitch.

"Uh, maybe about ten minutes ago?" Jack replied unsurely.

And then suddenly, Nightshade was perfectly fine. He hopped off the bed and started wandering around the room as if he'd never acted like he had a few minutes ago.

"Maybe there's something in the lair he doesn't like," commented Jack absently.

Pitch couldn't help but agree. Something was…off. And he really wished he knew what it was.

_Bang!_

Pitch and Jack jumped at the sound of their bedroom door slamming shut.

"The wind probably just blew it closed or something," said Pitch, shrugging off an eerie feeling.

"It wasn't," stated Jack. "I would know."

Pitch pondered things for a moment before making a decision. "I'm going to look around."

The Nightmare King practically had to pry Jack's fingers off of him, but once he had, he decided to investigate the hallway.

Heading into Nightmares' room, he flipped on the newly installed light switch and found that the light wouldn't turn on. That was strange, to say the least. But there was a logical explanation for this, right? There had to be.

However, he didn't want to remain in the room any longer for some reason, so he headed back for the door. Leaving the room, he quickly made his way down the hall until he got to their bedroom. Shutting the door, he stared at it before a voice brought him out of his stupor.

"Pitch, are you okay?" asked Jack, looking concerned. Nightshade was curled up in his lap.

"I'm not sure. Something's not right." Pitch really hated to admit that, but what had gone on was just too strange. "Let's just get some sleep."

Jack ushered Nightshade off his lap and into the center of the bed. Pulling down the blankets, Pitch got in. All seemed well, until the winter spirit shrieked and jumped out of the bed.

"What is it?" Pitch gasped after Nightshade clawed his way across his stomach.

"I-I felt something," said Jack, inching away from the side of the bed. "It felt like someone sat next to me."

"Are you sure it wasn't—?"

"Yes, I'm sure it wasn't Nightshade!" cried the winter spirit. "Can we sleep with the light on?" Jack asked softly.

"Fine," replied Pitch as he turned on the bedside lamp. "Come on. Get back in the bed. Let's _try _to get some sleep."

They both settled back down; however, sleep was the furthest thing from either of their minds.

* * *

Jack was the first one up for a change. He hadn't slept a wink last night, but he'd tried to do his best. And now he was down in the kitchen preparing breakfast. As he set about making some eggs, he felt someone nudge his arm. Turning around, he fully expected to see Pitch.

But no one was there.

His heart racing a mile a minute, he looked around the vacant kitchen, waiting to either be touched or to see dishes flying about the room.

Nothing.

Shrugging it off, he turned back around to begin cooking the eggs. A few seconds later, he felt a hand run through his hair. Screaming, he spun around, knocking the pan of eggs onto the floor. Pressing himself up against the counter, he shook like a leaf as his eyes panned the kitchen again.

No one was here, so who was touching him?

"Jack, what are you doing?" called Pitch, entering the kitchen.

"Something touched me. _Twice_!"

Pitch sighed. "It was probably just your imagination," commented the Nightmare King.

"I did _not_ imagine it!" Jack snapped.

"_Pitch._"

The two of them froze after hearing someone whisper the Nightmare King's name.

"You heard that, right?" Jack deadpanned.

Pitch nodded.

"I told you I wasn't imagining things."

* * *

Pitch and Jack settled in their living room. With everything that had gone on so far, it seemed the safest option. But with the Nightmare King now pacing back and forth, Jack became more and more unnerved.

"I don't understand what's going on," Pitch said, finally stopping. "I don't…there _has _to be an explanation for this."

"There is," began Jack. "The lair is haunted."

"If it was haunted, don't you think something would have happened _prior_ to you moving in? Additionally, I'm the embodiment of all things that go bump in the night. There are no hauntings unless I say so."

"Wait," started the winter spirit, "this stuff didn't start happening _until_ I moved in? Did I cause this?"

"This lair is _not _haunted. And it has _nothing_ to do with you moving in," Pitch snapped, breathing heavily, his white breath—.

Wait. White breath?

Pitch took a deep breath and exhaled again, the same white mist appearing in front of his mouth. Why was it suddenly so cold? Sure, Jack brought a certain freezing flair to the place, but this was different.

"Pitch?"

And then, as suddenly as the cold spot had appeared, it was gone and the room's temperature was back to normal.

"That wasn't me. You still think this place isn't haunted?" inquired Jack, looking uneasy.

Pitch still refused to say that the place was haunted. That was _his _territory. There just _had _to be a logical explanation for everything. But was he willing to jeopardize the well-being of Jack to prove it?

* * *

It had finally reached late evening without any more unexplained incidents. Jack was in their bedroom doing whatever it was to keep himself occupied. He was probably playing with Nightshade.

And here he was, sitting in a chair in the living room, trying to figure out what to do. Sighing, he leaned back in the chair and stared up at the ceiling. What was he supposed to do? He'd wracked his brain, trying to find an explanation or reason for why strange things were happening in their home, but he kept coming up with nothing.

Was the lair really haunted? Or was it just a figment of their imaginations? Were they suffering from some sort of mass hysteria?

Groaning, he stood and stretched, making his way out of the living room and toward their bedroom. He paused, however, when a familiar feeling caught his attention.

_Fear_.

He could _always _sense fear. hadn't felt anything quite like this in centuries. Not since the Dark Ages had abruptly ended.

Turning around, he looked about himself, trying to detect where it was coming from. He saw nothing, heard nothing.

"_Pitch._"

The Nightmare King inhaled sharply. He'd heard his name again, but this time it sounded harsher than before, like the one saying it was angry.

"_Pitch!_" the voice hissed again. The fear was becoming more pungent now.

Bolting for the bedroom, he burst inside, frightening Jack. Slamming the door shut, Pitch stared at the door, trying to ignore the fear that seemed to linger around him.

"Pitch?" Jack called out unsurely.

Suddenly, the door burst open of its own accord, startling the Nightmare King. He fell back against the bed and watched in horror as the lair seemed to come to life.

The pictures on the walls began flying off, banging as they flew across the room. Books started falling off the shelves while the lamp kept turning itself on and off. It was like the lair was seething in anger.

"Ah!" Jack cried.

Pitch turned his gaze sharply in the winter spirit's direction, but he was too late to react.

"Help!" Jack screamed as his body was viciously dragged by an invisible form across the floor and out of the bedroom. He continued to scream, even as the bedroom door shut after him.

"Jack!" Pitch shouted, racing toward the door. He grabbed the knob and yanked it. But he failed in opening it. It was as if someone had nailed the door shut. And hearing Jack's screams and pleads for help didn't make things any better. Jack's fear was terrifying.

Pitch pulled harder on the door. When there was enough space for him to place his hand between the door and the frame, he made to grab it, but the door snapped shut, nearly slicing his fingers off. Next, he tried to rematerialize on the other side using the shadows, but something prevented him from doing so.

"Jack!" This couldn't be happening! Pitch ran his hands through his hair, panic coming to the forefront of his mind. What was going on? What was happening to Jack?

Growing angry, he kicked the door. But that only served to anger whatever apparition was at work. For as soon as he had assaulted the lair, his body flew across the room and hit the bed.

Pitch breathed heavily, pain stinging his chest. As he parted his robe, he gasped when he saw what looked to be scratches on his skin.

Jumping to his feet, he threw caution to the wind. "STOP!" he roared.

Everything stopped. It was quiet. Deathly quiet.

And then the door creaked open, revealing an eerie calm in the hallway. But there was something else that made it all the more worse.

Jack was quiet as well. And he was nowhere to be seen.

He cautiously made his way out into the hallway, taking it one step at a time as he followed the icy trail left behind by Jack. Why was it so quiet?

"Jack?" Pitch called out anxiously. Where was he?

As he made his way down the stairs, the familiar sensation of fear struck the Nightmare King. Maybe if he followed it, he'd find Jack. But then why couldn't he sense Jack's fear, too?

Pitch headed for the living room. The fear was extremely intoxicating here. "Jack?"

There, against the wall, was Jack. And he was clawing at his neck like someone was keeping him in place. His staff lay forgotten on the floor. When Pitch realized the winter spirit's face turning an odd color, he understood that Jack was being choked.

"Jack!" he gasped, running over to him. But he slid to a halt when something appeared next to the winter spirit. An apparition?

Whatever it was, it had its back to him. And it seemed to be examining Jack.

"You stay away from him!" Pitch yelled, grabbing a book and throwing it at the entity. It flew right through it.

The manifestation spun around at that, and Pitch stumbled backward when he noticed the human-shaped being looked a _lot_ like himself. It had the same menacing eyes. The sensation of fear became even stronger. He knew this fear. And then it dawned on him. This was _his_ fear. But it couldn't be, could it?

Suddenly, the lair began vibrating, rattling as if they were in an earthquake. Jack plummeted to the floor, gasping for breath. Pitch raced over to him, picking him up bridal style and snatching the staff as he hurried back over to the far side of the room.

The apparition approached them as the wall behind it began to form words in a sickly red color.

_Get Out!_

"We're getting out of here!" Pitch said, clutching Jack in his arms as he ran for the opening of his lair.

As soon as the two of them made it outside—including Nightshade, who'd followed them from behind—the opening to the lair closed in on itself.

Reaching the very edge of the forest near the lake, Pitch finally set Jack down on his feet, inspecting every inch of him. "Are you all right?"

The winter spirit nodded, still trying to get his breathing under control.

Once they'd settled down somewhat, the two of them looked back toward where the opening of the lair had once been. It had ceased its menacing nature. But that didn't matter anymore. They would never go back to that place. Never.

"What was that?" Jack asked finally, looking up at Pitch for answers.

Deep down, Pitch knew. He'd always know. "It was my fear. It was an embodiment of my fear."

"I don't understand."

"I am made entirely of fear, my own fear giving me the strength I need to control the shadows and nightmares you see in this world. But my fear slowly slipped away when you came into my life," replied Pitch slowly. "As my fear faded, I gained a greater power over the shadows. The day you moved in was the day all my fear disappeared. But I suppose it hadn't vanished entirely. It created a shadow of my former self; my fear."

"And it wanted to hurt me?"

Pitch nodded. "You were able to cast out a darker part of myself. I just never knew that an apparition would come of it. Nor did I think it would harm you."

Jack looked back toward the place they'd both called home for barely a week. "Does that mean it'll come after me again?"

"I don't think so," replied Pitch. "As long as we stay away, you should be safe." He flinched when he felt arms encircling his waist, but relaxed when he realized it was just Jack.

"So what greater power did you gain then? What's more powerful than fear?" Jack asked.

Pitch looked down at him and smiled. "Love."

* * *

**End**


End file.
